


Life's Miscalculation

by bi_time_lord



Series: Distortion [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Follows the Show, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, Original Character(s), Season/Series 01, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Slow Burn, but they secretly don't, they hate each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_time_lord/pseuds/bi_time_lord
Summary: Just like Sherlock Holmes, Emily Hadley sometimes was called upon by Scotland Yard to help solve the most puzzling of cases much to Holmes' distaste and much to his annoyance, even his brother Mycroft used the woman's services at times. After Hadley moved to America those services stopped, the contact between Scotland Yard stopped and so did the messages between Hadley and clients. It was almost as if Emily Hadley never even existed until she returned, a new friend following very closely behind her.





	1. The First of a Thousand Cases

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sherlock fic, thank you to my amazing beta reader (wibblywobblybowtie) for taking the time out of her day to read and fix my hideous grammar, my fic would be horrible without her help so a big thank you to her!  
> I'm not sure when this will be updated, I have a few things going on at the moment and this is the last of my worries so apologies. :) 
> 
> On another note this fic follows the show, some things change some things stay the same but this will be different the show just works as a baseline for my unoriginal mind ;)

Miss Emily Hadley sighed as her mobile phone went off for the sixty-seventh time that hour. She knew because she had counted while on her boring plane that was soon to be landing in boring London. Emily was given annoyed looks by her fellow passengers. Not that she really cared. The notification was important. More important than the sixty-six other notifications she’d had. This was a notification from her news app. There was another suicide. Three suicides identical to each other. She was intrigued and desperately needed to get off the plane. Emily Hadley had to make a call.

~~~~~

London was dark when the plane finally landed, with Emily being one of the first passengers to jump out of her seat and rush to the exit. The woman was eager. Multitasking, using her left hand to reach into her coat pocket as the right took her bag from the hand luggage compartment, Emily dialled a number she hadn't used in quite a while.

The man on the other end of the phone sounded confused when he picked the phone up. "Hello?"

"Lestrade?" Emily raised a brow as she exited the plane and passed the passengers which seemed to be almost as slow as the woman’s dead gran. "You sound confused, how can you possibly be confused?" She then sighed. "You deleted my number, didn't you?"

"Emily?" He replied sounding slightly taken back by the call. "Emily Hadley?"

"The one and only. No need to sound shocked or, as if someone has taken my identity, again." Emily rolled her eyes at the thought.

"I thought you were in America?" He questioned

"I was." She nodded. "And now I'm not."

"Well, that's news." He muttered. "I guess you want something?"

"I know there are four identical murders in London." She replied.

"Murders?" He frowned. "They were suicides."

"They can't be." She shook her head. "They're too identical. They can't be suicides."

"You haven't even taken a look at the case." He protested.

"I read it on the plane." Emily countered. "I'm at Heathrow, pick me up, please."

"Why?"

"Because you're on your way to the murder and I need a ride without having an annoying taxi driver going through painfully slow traffic. Especially when I could get there just as fast if you took me."

"How do you know I'm going to the suicide?"

"I can hear the sirens Lestrade."

The man sighed. "Fine." He muttered. "But you can get home from there yourself."

"Fair enough." She nodded. "See you in fifteen minutes."

"Oh and we're picking up Sherlock after," Lestrade added practically grinning at the other end of the phone as Emily groaned. "Hope you don't mind."

"Holmes, really?" She scoffed. "I'm not working with him."

"Don't then, call a taxi I guess. I'll see you at work tomorrow?"

The woman grimaced. "Don't call it that, it makes it sound boring."

"If you say so." He shrugged as she ended the call.

~~~~~

The car stopped just outside a door with a wonky door knock. Emily rolled her eyes, of course, this had to be the place, who would purposely move the knocker slightly to the right?

Sherlock bloody Holmes.

"Are you staying here?" Lestrade asked as he stepped out of the car. The woman in the passenger seat sighed before she followed behind the grey-haired DI, who walked up to the door and was about to knock.

"May I?" She raised a brow. Lestrade nodded and stepped away, watching the woman move the knocker so it was straight, and bring the pin out of her brunette hair allowing her fringe to fall, while she picked the lock. She smirked as the lock clicked and the door slightly creaked open.

"He isn't going to be very happy about what you did to the door."

"I hope he isn't." Emily replied and followed the man into the hall and up the stairs.

"Where?" A deep British voice spoke up.

"Brixton," Lestrade answered. "Lauriston Gardens."

"What's new about this one?" The man Emily knew to be Sherlock Holmes answered. "You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different."

"You know how they never leave notes?" Lestrade questioned.

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" The curly haired man questioned.

"It's Anderson."

"Anderson won't work with me." He grimaced.

"Well, he won't be your assistant."

"I need an assistant."

"Maybe you won't this time." He replied and stepped out of the way. The man’s eyes rose while Emily rolled her eyes.

"Hadley." His eyes then narrowed slightly.

"Holmes." She dryly replied.

The man sitting in a chair in Sherlock’s flat frowned, looking between the two people.

"What is she doing here?" Sherlock’s head snapped over to Lestrade. It then snapped back to the brunette. "Last I heard you disappeared off to America."

"I came back." She replied. "Was worried you might blow up England."

"Highly unlikely." He then looked back at Lestrade. "What is she doing here?"

"She saw the news and wanted to know about the cases."

"The case." Both Holmes and Hadley said at the same time before they narrowed their eyes at one another.

"Case?" Lestrade looked between them.

"I'll explain later." Sherlock waved him off. "Busy now, can you leave my flat Hadley."

"With Pleasure." She exaggerated a bow and turned walking out of the flat and heading down the stairs.

Lestrade sighed. "Will you come?"

Sherlock glanced out of the window and watched Miss Emily Hadley sit down in the car. "Not in a police car and definitely not the same one as her." He answered. "But I'll be right behind."

The grey-haired man let out a breath. "Thank you." he then disappeared out of the flat and down the stairs. Sherlock waited until he heard the front door shut before he leapt in the air with joy.

"Brilliant!" He exclaimed. "Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note!" He picked up his coat and scarf. "Oh, it's Christmas!" He placed them on. "Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear," she reminded, "not your housekeeper."

"Something cold will do." He added. "John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" He then grabbed a small pouch from the kitchen table before he exited the flat.

"Look at him, dashing about!" Mrs Hudson chuckled. "My husband was just the same." John grimaced at the woman's implication. "But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell."

John sighed shaking his head. "Why did it look like Sherlock and that woman were about to go at each other's throats?"

"Oh, they've always been like that." Mrs Hudson sighed. "They have so much in common but ruin it all with their constant disagreements and distaste for each other. It honestly is disappointing to see what could be a great friendship go to waste."

"Right." John frowned.

"I'll make you that cuppa." She then nodded. "You rest your leg."

"Damn my leg!" John suddenly exclaimed making Mrs Hudson turn towards the man in shock. "Sorry," John immediately apologised. "I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing... " He muttered.

"I understand, dear;" she nodded, "I've got a hip."

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, thank you."

"Just this once, dear." She smiled. "I'm not your housekeeper."

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got 'em." He added.

"Not your housekeeper!"

John picked up the newspaper next to the chair and frowned spotting an article about a woman named Beth Davenport and her apparent suicide, his eyes then drifted to the womans photo with a smaller photo beside hers. It was the man that had entered Sherlocks flat.

John then jumped as Sherlock spoke up at the door. "You're a doctor." He stated. "In fact, you're an Army doctor."

"Yes." He nodded.

"Any good?" Sherlock questioned as John rose to his feet.

"Very good."

"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths."

"Mmm, yes." He hummed.

"Bit of trouble too, I bet."

"Of course, yes." John muttered. "Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?"

"Oh God, yes." He replied as Sherlock spun on his heel and lead John out of the room and down the stairs.

"Sorry, Mrs Hudson," he called to the woman, "I'll skip the tea. Off out."

"Both of you?" She replied.

"Impossible suicides?" Sherlock said spotting by the door and turning to the woman. "Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" He kissed the woman's cheek and then turned away again.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent."

"Who cares about decent?" He questioned. "The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!" He opened the door. His face fell noticing who else was on the street. "I saw you get into the car." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Apparently calling the suicides murders was something Lestrade didn't agree with." She huffed. "So he kicked me out."

"You deserved it."

"Thanks." She rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're much better?"

Sherlock shook his head in reply and hailed a taxi, he got in with John following him. "You coming?" Holmes raised a brow at the woman who frowned.

"What?"

"Are you coming with us?" He added.

"I thought you didn't want me in the same car as you?"

"Well if you're going to help me on this case I can hardly have you coming later?"

"No." She chuckled. "No, no, no. This." She pointed at him. "Is not your case, Holmes. It is mine now just as much as it is yours. You can either learn to share it or you don't have it at all, did your mother teach you nothing?"

"Just get in the car." He replied acting as if he hadn't heard her talk in the last minute.

"And he didn't hear a word I said." She sighed and sat in the last seat before shutting the door.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." Sherlock told the driver.

"How did you know he didn't want you in the same car?" John questioned looking at the brunette.

"Rule one about Hadley," Sherlock cut in. "Don't question whatever she says or she will go on forever."

The brunette shot the man an annoyed look before looking back towards John. "Holmes likes to try and get in on all my cases. Tries to push me out of them when I can take care of them perfectly fine." She rolled her eyes. "If only you weren't as blind as your brother."

"Blind?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Can we not." John sighed. "I'm not sitting between you two arguing."

The three then sat in silence, John stared ahead, Emily looking out of her window, observing the people they passed by while Sherlock was engrossed in his phone.

The curly haired man sighed noticing the other man in the car intentionally watching him. Sherlock pocketed the phone and glanced at Watson. "Okay, you've got questions."

"Yeah, where are we going?"

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you?" He asked. "What do you do?"

"What do you think?" He raised a brow.

"I'd say private detective..." Watson slowly replied.

"But?"

"but," John nodded, "the police don't go to private detectives."

"I'm a consulting detective." He answered. "Only one in the world. I invented the job."

Emily snorted making both men glance at her. "That's ridiculous."

"It really isn't Emma." Sherlock replied.

The brunette narrowed her eyes. "You know I hate that name." She muttered.

"Emma..." he said it again, more slowly this time.

John frowned. "What is a consulting detective and what does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"The police don't consult amateurs."

"Oh god." Emily muttered. "Now you've boosted his ego."

Sherlock smirked slightly. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You looked surprised." He told Watson.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw." He answered. "Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room. You said, 'bit different from my day.’ You also trained at Bart's, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq."

"You said I had a therapist." He frowned.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp – of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your brother." He took the phone from Watson and held it in the air, studying it.

"Sister." Emily cut in making them both blink at her. "Pass me the phone please Holmes." She held out a hand.

The man frowned at her before he obliged setting the device into her palm. "Your phone Mr Watson, it's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare otherwise why would you be at Holmes house if you didn't know about him. You could’ve been a client, but by the cheer I heard from your upstairs window, which is open, you are not a client since he wouldn't be that happy or let you come along if you were one of his clients. But going back to the phone, you wouldn't waste money on this. Meaning it is a gift." She then flipped the phone over so the men could both see the marks and scratches on the back of the device as she rang a finger over them. "Scratches. Not one, but many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. You wouldn't treat a luxury item like this, you would get a case, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy but Holmes is a little bit slow." She gave the man a teasing sympathetic smile which he countered with his narrowed eyes. "You know it already this one though, John."

"The engraving." He nodded. She continued: "You probably cannot see Holmes but on the back of the phone is the words.

'Harry Watson

From Clara

xxx'

Now Holmes assumed the phone was a mans, but earlier he was texting using your phone, I was observant and in your phone your sister is listed as 'Harry' the last text you got from her was a three months back with only the message 'okay xx' a man wouldn't reply with kisses unless it was to their partner and since your name is not Clara and the phone is second hand you couldn't have been together. It was clearly a family member who's given you her old phone. It couldn't have been your mother or fathers since the phone is far too new in model. It could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live and it is unlikely you've got an extended family. So it is your sisters phone. The kisses engraved on the back show it was some kind of relationship between Harry and Clara as I said earlier. You wouldn't go through the trouble of getting a phone engraved unless it was serious therefore they were either married or engaged. The phone is also pretty expensive which narrows it down to them being married but there were issues with the relationship. She didn't keep the phone as a sentimental item but actually got rid of it which tells me there was a divorce that she broke off. Harriet gave the phone to you: that says she wants you to stay in touch but you're looking for cheap accommodation, and you're not going to your sister for help: that says you've got problems with her. Maybe you liked her wife; maybe you don't like her drinking."

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" He raised a brow.

The woman shrugged slightly. "I actually guessed that one a bit, there are some scratch marks need the charging port which suggests that the owner is normally very drunk when trying to put their phone on charge in the night."

She handed the phone back to John. "How did you do that?" The man asked as she reached into her bag and placed her phone inside, not wishing to lose it once they arrived at the crime scene.

"I observe." The woman answered. "Clearly more than Holmes does."

"You're just a show off." The man narrowed his eyes at her. "Why did you come back?" He questioned before stopping his previous question as Emily opened her mouth. "No, no, don't answer that." He studied her for a moment before he smiled slightly. "You missed it here, didn't you?"

"What?"

"Well you clearly had no plans to go back to America." He shrugged. "You had no luggage apart from that bag." He nodded at her hand bag on the floor. "Meaning that either Lestrade gave you a lift to your old flat or you didn't have any luggage. But this is Lestrade we are talking about and he wouldn't waste time taking you to the other side of London just to drop your stuff off meaning that you brought no luggage back with you so you have no plans on going back."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Anyone could guess that Holmes. Why America?"

"You opened your bag earlier and in that bag is your purse which happened to be open, clearly showing the photo you keep inside. It's clearly new going by the quality of the picture and it is of the Grand Canyon. There is no one in the photo, meaning that you would rather have a photo of a view of the canyon than of family members. which means that you had an argument with your family, which is why you are back."

"There you go, you see," Sherlock looked at John, "you were right."

"I was right?" He frowned. "Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs."

"That,” John slowly replied looking between the two people he was sitting next to. "...was amazing."

Sherlock looked around clearly surprised by the man's reaction while Emily smirked slightly.

"Do you think so?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course it was." He nodded. "It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not what people normally say." Emily hummed. "Especially when it is too him, I sometimes get it as well though."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off'" they both replied. Sherlock smiled slightly before shaking his head and briefly narrowing his eyes at the woman before glancing out of the window. Emily shook her own head as the car arrived at Lauriston Gardens.

She exited the cab once it stopped. "Did she get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked looking quite smug. "Surely Harry is a boy and not a girl."

"Harry and me don't get on, never have." John began. "Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker."

Sherlock's face fell slightly. "But he is a man though?"

"No," John replied. "Harry's short for Harriet, just as she said." He nodded at Emily who now had a smug grin of her own. "How did you get Harriet from that though?"

"That was a guess." She smirked while Sherlock groaned slowing his walking slightly. Emily began to walk fast. "Come on Holmes, isn't 'the game on' as you usually put it?"

Sherlock sighed slightly as John frowned. "Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" He asked Holmes.

"Sister!" Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"No, seriously, what am I doing here?"

"There's always something that she bloody gets and I don't." He muttered walking faster again to catch up with the brunette.

"Hello, freak." A woman standing beside police tape glanced at Sherlock. "Emily."

"Hello Donovan." The brunette greeted stepping under the tape.

"You're here with him?" She questioned.

"I wouldn't be if I could help it." She replied. "Lestrade wasn't too happy when I told him they were murders not suicides and told me to find my own way here. A minute later these two come out of 221b so here I am." She shrugged.

"And what are you doing here?" She said, looking at Sherlock.

"I'm here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade." He replied.

"Why?"

"I was invited."

"Invited? When she is here?" Donovan looked between Holmes and Hadley. "Why?"

"I think he wants me to take a look." Sherlock replied in a sarcastic tone.

"Well, you know what I think, don't you?"

"Always, Sally." He ducked under the tape and took a deep breath. "I even know you didn't make it home last night."

"I don't..." she muttered then looked at John. "Er, who's this?"

"Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson." He then nodded at them both. "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan." His voice then grew sarcastic again. "Old friend."

"No need to make a fight Holmes, we have murder to solve."

"I can see why Lestrade got you to find your own way." Donovan told Emily before she looked at Sherlock. "A colleague? How do you get a colleague? What, did he follow you home?”

"Would it be better if I just waited and..." Watson asked.

"No." Sherlock cut in holding the tape up for Watson who walked underneath it.

"Hadley and the Freak are here. Bringing them in." Donovan spoke into a radio.

"Honoured to not be called a 'Freak'." Emily said to Donovan.

"Well you're different from him." She nodded at Holmes. "You actually have feelings and get sympathetic for relatives of murdered people. Yeah, you can be rude but better than Freak."

They walked up to the house where a man in overalls walked up looking at Sherlock with a distasteful expression. "Ah, Anderson." Sherlock nodded. "Here we are again."

"It's a crime scene." He reminded. "I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?

Sherlock took another deep breath. "Quite clear." He then added: "And is your wife away for long?"

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out." He scoffed. "Somebody told you that."

"Your deodorant told me that."

"My deodorant?"

"It's for men." He glanced at Emily. "Are you getting it Hadley?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "I use my skill for what I'm good at, solving crimes, not for pissing people off Holmes."

"This is a crime." He looked at her with an innocent look on his face, he then leaned towards her whispering in the woman's ear. "Watch."

"Well, of course it's for men!" Anderson huffed. "I'm wearing it!"

"So's Sergeant Donovan." He hummed and sniffed again. Emily took a breath as well and ducked her head to hide the smile on her face.

"Ooh, and I think it just vaporised." Sherlock smiled. "May I go in?"

Anderson turned to Sherlock and narrowed his eyes while pointing a finger at him. "Now look: whatever you're trying to imply..."

"I'm not implying anything." He shrugged, heading past Donovan and towards the front door.

"I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over." He then turned back towards them both. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees."

The two stared in horror while Emily suppressed a laugh that she really couldn't help, before she started to cough. "You okay, Hadley?"

"Fine." The woman waved a hand while he smiled smugly. They then entered the building and headed into a room where Lestrade stood wearing overalls.

"You need to wear one of these." Sherlock pointed to the pile as he spoke to Watson.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked.

"He's with me." Sherlock replied as he removed his gloves.

"But who is he?"

"I said he's with me."

John took off his jacket and picked up an overall while Sherlock handed a pair of latex gloves to Emily and then picked up his own.

"Aren't you gonna put one on?" He looked between them.

Sherlock gave Watson a stern look as Emily replied: "I don't make a mess at crime scenes, really I don't need to touch anything at all." She shrugged. "The less the better."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade. "So where are we?"

"Upstairs." He replied, picking up another pair of gloves before heading upstairs. Holmes, Watson and Hadley followed behind.


	2. A Man of Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned on having this chapter out yesterday but I have been ill since Friday. Hope you enjoy :)

"I can give you two minutes." Lestrade told both Sherlock and Emily.

"May need longer." Sherlock muttered in reply.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards." Lestrade explained. "We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her."

Emily glanced around the room that was two storeys above the ground floor, she entered the room glancing at the rocking horse that looked worn out in the corner of the room as the body lay in the middle of the otherwise empty room, face down. The woman wore a coat and shoes a matching colour that was a bright shade of pink. Emily looked up at the ceiling being held up by scaffolding before she took notice in the small holes in the walls.  Sherlock glanced at Emily before raising a brow at the woman. The brunette nodded and he stepped into the room as well, staring at the body he held a hand out and stepped towards the dead woman. Holmes then crouched on the ground.

"Shut up." Sherlock said aloud as Emily crouched beside the corpse.

"Holmes." The brunette warned earning a scoff from the man as Lestrade looked at him startled.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking." He replied. "It's annoying."

Both Lestrade and John shared a look between both of Emily and Sherlocks backs. Emily instantly noticed the writing the woman had carved into the floor. She either was german or writing a name. Her nails on her fore and middle fingers of her left hand were chipped and cracked with the pink nail polish wore away slightly on the tips. She was definitely left handed. As for her being german? That was false Jennifer Wilson was writing a name. Why would a woman who knew she was dying painfully carve 'RACHE', which was german for 'revenge', into the floor? The only other answer meant it was a name.

"Rachel..." The brunette muttered quiet enough for only herself and Sherlock who was also wracking the woman’s thought process through his head. Holmes glanced at her and slightly frowned, clearly annoyed for distracting him. Why was she even here? She clearly despised him almost as much as he despised her. She was always confusing. He really didn't like it.

Shifting his attention back to the body, Holmes ran his gloved hand along the back of her coat and lifted up his fingers. The back of her coat was wet. Emily raised a brow noticing this and pulled a folded umbrella out of the women's coat pocket. It was completely dry. She returned the umbrella and stood up, removing the gloves, while Sherlock continued to work. He took out a small magnifier from his pocket, clicked it up and closely inspected the bracelet on her left wrist. Emily was on her phone, however, looking at the weather forecast for the last three to four hours. It only was raining and in Cardiff. It was extremely windy there too. Smiling, she returned her phone to her pocket and glanced at Holmes who had removed Jennifer's wedding ring, looking at the inside, which was clean and then the outside, which was dirty. Emily noticed that this was clearly different to the rest of the woman's jewellery which was clean and in good condition. 

Sherlock then placed the ring back on Jennifer's finger and stood up.

"Got anything?" Lestrade looked between them.

"Not much." Sherlock muttered as Emily frowned at him.

"More than you Holmes." She remarked.

The man glanced at her sensing her challenging him. "Be my guest...  _ Emma _ "

Emily cringed slightly before she glanced at Anderson who stood in the doorway. "She's German." He stated. "'Rache': it's German for 'revenge.' She could be trying to tell us something..." Emily rolled her eyes while Sherlock walked towards the door and shut it in Anderson's face.

"Yes, thank you for your input." He muttered.

"As much as I wish I didn't, I have to agree with you there Holmes."

Sherlock gave a smug smile. "So she's German?" Lestrade asked.

"No." Emily replied as Sherlock opened his mouth to answer while he looked at his phone before he narrowed his eyes at Hadley. "She isn't German or from London. "Miss Jennifer Wilson is from Cardiff, staying for one night before she returns home tomorrow.”

"Cardiff?" John and Lestrade frowned.

"So far, so obvious." Sherlock shrugged.

"Sorry," John blinked, "Obvious?" 

"What about the message, though?" 

 

Sherlock ignored Lestrade and glanced at John. "Doctor Watson, what do you think?"

"Of the message?" 

 

"I believe he means what do you think of the body." Emily said and glanced at Sherlock who nodded.

"Exactly. You're a medical man."

"Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Lestrade cut in. 

 

"They won't work with me." Holmes waved off. "I'm barely managing to work with Hadley without ripping the hair off my head."

"Thanks." Emily dryly replied.

Lestrade frowned. "I'm breaking every rule letting  _ you _ in here." He looked at Sherlock and then Emily. "That includes you as well." 

 

"You said I could come." She shrugged. "Plus what else am I supposed to do?"

"Go home?" He suggested.

"Don't have one." She replied. "Sold the flat a few months ago before I planned to return. Why do you think I wanted a lift?"

Lestrade sighed.

"As much as I regret to say you need us." Sherlock cut in looking at Lestrade. " _ Both _ of us."

Emily blinked at Sherlock's words as Lestrade even looked taken back as he glanced between both Holmes and Hadley before he lowered his eyes. "Yes, I do." He muttered. "God help me."

Emily smiled slightly and nodded to the grey-haired man with the walking stick. "Doctor Watson." 

 

"Hm?" He replied looking up from the body and then to Emily who glanced at Lestrade who sighed and nodded. "Go on then." He muttered. "Emily's more careful than he is, so help yourself."

"Thank you Lestrade." The brunette nodded as the man opened the door. "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes."

Sherlock and John walked over to the body, Holmes squat down on one side as John painfully lowered himself on one knee on the other side as Emily stood beside the carved letters. "Well?" Sherlock looked at John.

"What am I doing here?" John asked. 

"Helping me make a point." Sherlock replied.

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent." He narrowed his eyes. 

"Yeah, well, this is more fun."

"Holmes," Emily warned while he shot her a glare.

"Fun?" John scoffed. "There's a woman lying dead."

"Perfectly sound analysis, but I  _ was _ hoping you'd go deeper."

John leaned down and sniffed before he glanced at Sherlock. "Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs." 

"You know what it was," Sherlock replied. "You've read the papers." 

"What, she's one of the suicides?" John frowned. "The fourth...?"

"Murder." Emily cut in making Sherlock look at her before he stood up.

"Sherlock, Emily – two minutes,I said." Lestrade cut in while Sherlock and Emily stared at each other. "I need anything you've got."

"No." Sherlock waved a hand at Lestrade before he frowned slightly. "You keep saying murders, not suicide." He then looked at Lestrade. "You kicked her out for it, didn't you?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "She wouldn't stop correcting me so I said she could find her own way there."

Sherlock then looked at Emily. "So why do you keep saying they're murders."

"Look Holmes." Emily raised both brows as he glanced at the body, eyes darting around. "Really  _ look. _ "

"What is he looking for," Lestrade asked.

"No." Sherlock cut in. "Hush, let me work it out." He muttered staring at the body for a moment before blinking and looking up at Emily. "How could I possibly miss  _ that _ ?"

"Miss what?" Lestrade asked. "Emily if you're trying to keep something from me-"

"Victim is in her late thirties." The woman started cutting the DI off. "Professional person, going by her clothes.

"I'm guessing something in the media." Sherlock cut in smirking as Emily narrowed her eyes. "Going by the frankly alarming shade of pink." He slowly added after a moment.

"Travelled from Cardiff today," Emily took over again, "intending to stay in London for one night. It's obvious from the size of her suitcase."

"Suitcase?" Lestrade frowned as John looked around the room.

"Suitcase, yes." Sherlock nodded. "It's what I missed." He glanced at the body. "She's been married at least ten years, but not happily. She's had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married." 

"Oh, for God's sake, if you're just making this up..."

"No, he isn't." Emily cut in. Sherlock raised a brow at her and the brunette nodded. "Continue Holmes."

"Her wedding ring." He pointed at it. "Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it's regularly removed. The only polishing it gets, is when she works it off her finger. It's not for work; look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or rather who _does_ she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's brilliant." John breathed.

"Hey don't let him take all the credit." Emily rolled her eyes.

"Ego." Holmes hummed.

"Me, ego?" Hadley scoffed.

"Yes, ego." He nodded then looked at John.

"Sorry." 

Lestrade then pointed at Emily. "You said Cardiff earlier, what did you mean." 

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Emily shrugged.

"It's not obvious to me." 

Sherlock looked at Emily for a moment then at John and Lestrade. "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring."

"Rude." Emily cut in.

"It's the truth."

"Cardiff?" Lestrade reminded.

"You deduced that Holmes."Emily added.

"Her coat: it's slightly damp." He began. "She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours, that's what Hadley was looking up on her phone.” He nodded at the woman.

"There has been no rain anywhere in London in that time. Holmes checked under her coat collar and it is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused so it isn't just wind, but it's  _ strong _ wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?" She hummed and brought out her phone. "The wind and rain narrows it down to only one place: Cardiff."

"That's fantastic!" John exclaimed.

Emily smirked slightly. "Thank you, Watson."

"Ego." Holmes muttered again.

Sherlock turned to John. "D'you know you do that out loud?" He said. 

"Sorry. I'll shut up."

"No, it's ... fine."

"Why do you two keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade asked looking between Holmes and Hadley.

Sherlock began to turn around in the middle of the room. "Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is." He ordered, pointing at Lestrade.

"She was writing 'Rachel'?"

"No, she was leaving an angry note in German." He rolled his eyes. "Of  _ course _ she was writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to write it?"

"How d'you two know she had a suitcase?"

Emily pointed at the woman's tights. "Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don't get that splash pattern any other way." She closed her eyes for a moment trying to imagine the size. "Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night."

Sherlock then turned to Lestrade. "What have you done with the case?"

"There wasn't a case." He replied. Both Sherlock and Emily looked up at the DI and frowned.

"Say that again." Holmes replied.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase."

"Suitcase!" He stood up and ran out of the room, looking down the middle of the spiral stairs as he shouted. "Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

Sherlock then began to run down the stairs, Emily, Lestrade and John followed. "Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade replied.

Holmes then slowed down but continued to go down the stairs. "But they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn't miss them." He glanced at Emily.

"Thanks." She dryly replied.

His eyes then widened. "You said it yourself, he pointed at the brunette. "You repeatedly said 'murder' Hadley, why?"

"Well it was based off how identical each death seems to be, far too much of a coincidence for just a 'trend'. It also occurred in people of different ages so it couldn't be a trend therefore it was a murder..."

"And now there is the suitcase..." Sherlock cut in and then looked at Lestrade. It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings –  _ serial _ killings." He then held his hands up in front of his face in delight. "We've got ourselves a serial killer. I  _ love _ those. There's always something to look forward to."

"Holmes." Hadley rolled her eyes. "People have died."

"What happened to you?" He blinked.

“I keep getting cut in by a psychopath." She narrowed her eyes.

"Sociopath. There is a difference."

"Whatever." She added.

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade frowned looking at Sherlock.

He stopped and called to the others. "Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Someone else was here, and they took her case." He then lowered his voice."So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John shrugged.

"No, she never got to the hotel." Emily shook her head. 

The tights being dirty and her hair says it all. "She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She takes too much care in Her grooming."

"She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking..." he then stopped and glanced at Emily who smiled slightly.

"Finally caught up with me Holmes?" She raised a brow.

"Sherlock?" John frowned. “Emily?"

"What is it?" Lestrade asked.

"Serial killers are always hard." He said aloud. "You have to wait for them to make a mistake."

"We can't just wait!"

"Oh, we're  _ done _ waiting!" He called up before hurrying down the stairs.

"Look at her, really  _ look _ !" He rolled his eyes, Houston, we  _ have _ a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!"

"Of course, yeah – but what mistake?!"

"PINK! Both Sherlock and Emily said at the same time. Sherlock then ran out of the house. Emily shrugged slightly and stared heading down the stairs, a little more slowly than usual for John who no doubt had no idea where he actually was while Sherlock was probably already calling a taxi, returning to 221b Baker Street, his mind solely on one thing: the case.

"Let's get on with it." Anderson muttered walking up the stairs with his team while Emily waited at the bottom of the stairs for John who came down a few moments later.

The brunette didn't say a word when he passed her and walked off to remove the overalls, putting his jacket on he then walked outside as Emily glanced up from her phone, following after the man who was clearly looking for Sherlock.

"He's gone, John." Emily muttered eyes glued to her device as Donovan closely watched them.

"Who, Sherlock Holmes?" He frowned.

"That's the one." She muttered slowly walking away as John followed.

"He does that a lot, trust me it gets annoying when you're supposed to be working with the man."

"Do you think he is coming back?"

"Knowing Holmes?" She said looking up for a moment. "No."

"Right." John nodded before ducking under the police tape, Emily didn't even look up as she did. They both walked for a moment before John frowned and stopped. "Who even are you?"

"Emily Hadley." She hummed continuing to walk.

"Yeah I got that." He nodded. "But who are you?"

"I'm a Detective."

"Like Sherlock?"

Hadley sighed and pocketed the phone while she stopped and turned around. "I am anything but like Holmes." She warned pointing a finger at him. "That man is rude, has no care for anyone else and certainly is dangerous."

"Dangerous?" John questioned looking slightly shocked. "He doesn't seem dangerous."

"That's because you haven't looked close enough." She answered. "Holmes isn't employed like me. I sort of  _ retired _ from this for a bit. It's why I moved to America."

"But?" John said guessing there was one coming up.

"But," she nodded, "Holmes isn't paid for this, it isn't his job it's how he keeps himself 'sane' I believe." She answered. "Holmes is bad trouble, you have to be careful around that man because otherwise you and those close to you  _ will  _ get hurt."

"Why are you telling me all this if you don't care about him?" John frowned.

"I don't." She hummed. "But you only just met him, you're not his friend because Holmes doesn't have any. I'm warning you before you end up on the wooden floor just like Jennifer Wilson was today."

"What?"

"Holmes  _ enjoys  _ this. He enjoys working out the crimes and if we're not careful he is probably going to create one for himself to solve some day in the future. Don't let it be you that's killed." Hadley then walked away.

"Wait!" John shouted after her, using his cane to try and catch up.

"Hmm?"

"Where," he looked around. "Where am I?"

"Brixton."

"Right." He nodded.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Come on, Watson I'll help you get a cab."

"Thank you." He nodded.

"I need to speak to Mrs Hudson anyways." She hummed. A public phone box then began to ring. John stopped, stared at it before the phone stopped and he continued.

"That was for you." Emily said aloud as they came up to a fast food restaurant.

"For me?"

"You got someone's attention." She remarked.

"Who?"

"Someone who is much worse than  _ Sherlock _ Holmes."

John blinked at her before his head snapped to the pay phone on the wall as it began to ring. "Answer it." She ordered while he frowned.

"But you said-"

"If I go with you, which I no doubt will, he won't do anything. Wouldn't dare. I'm too valuable to the police right now. Especially now I'm working with the man who lives in Baker Street."

John moved towards the phone but was too late as one of the fast food workers went to grab the phone which stopped ringing as soon as their hands touched the device.

"See." She smiled slightly and glanced around searching for the CCTV cameras around the restaurant . "It is for you."

John frowned at her as they continued to walk. She was more a mystery than Sherlock, maybe that's why he didn't like her? The two came across another public telephone box which started to ring. John stared at it as Emily hummed walking towards the box. The phone instantly stopped and she backed away. "See." She glanced at Watson. "It clearly isn't for me, so it is for you."

John sighed and walked over to the box, opening the door he stepped inside and answered the phone.  "Hello?" 

_ " _ There is a security camera on the building to your left." A male voice replied, not addressing John. "Do you see it?" 

 

"Who's this?" John frowned. "Who's speaking?"

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?" The voice replied, John looked through the phone box windows and up at the CCTV camera, Emily raised a brow and followed John’s eyes before she smiled and gave the camera a quick wave with a grin on her face. 

"Can't fool me Mycroft." She muttered.

"Yeah, I see it." John confirmed. 

 

"Watch." The man ordered John as the camera which was pointing towards John turned away.

_ " _ There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?" 

 

John did the same thing again, spotting the camera. Emily followed as well while the grey haired man hummed. "Mm-hm."

The camera turned away like the last on. "And finally, at the top of the building on your right." John turned to the third camera and watched as it too turned away.

 

"How are you doing this?" John asked.

"Get into the car, Doctor Watson." He replied before adding: "Oh and bring Miss Emily Hadley with you." John just stared at the car which pulled up on the side of the road. "I  _ would _ make some sort of threat, but Hadley is a smart woman and she's getting into the car so obviously you can too." Johns glance moved from the last CCTV camera to Emily who was indeed stepping into the black car. The phone line went dead and John sighed, stepping out of the phone box. He made his way over to the car and got inside. A woman with black hair and dressed in smart black clothing was sat on the right side of the car, while Emily sat in the middle. John sat on the left and frowned at the woman as well as Emily, the two just busy on their phones.

 

"Hello." John said after a few minutes of silence.

The woman looked up for a moment. "Hi." She smiled before looking back down at her phone, the plain expression back on her face. 

 

"What's your name, then?"

"Er... Anthea." She replied. 

 

"Is that your real name?"

"No." Emily cut in before the woman could reply. "I know who she works for, she would be stupid if she told you her real name."

John blinked at Hadley. "And who does she work for."

"Well what would be the point in a surprise if I told you that?" She raised a brow. 

John sighed for a moment. "Any point in asking where I'm going?" 

"None at all..." 'Anthea' answered.  

 

"Okay."

The three sat in silence as the car pulled into a side road in London before it turned right and then right again, almost bringing them in a loop if they were to turn right a final time. Emily smiled slightly. He was trying to confuse her. 

"You can tell him it isn't working." Emily raised her brows at 'Anthea'." 

The woman merely looked at the brunette as the car continued to drive, turning into an almost empty-warehouse a few minutes later. A man in a black suit stood in the middle of the warehouse, leaning on an umbrella. "Have a seat, John." The man glanced at Emily. "Emma."

"It's Emily." She gritted out narrowing her eyes at him.

"If you say so, Hadley." He hummed before glancing at John who was still standing in front of him, the single chair in the whole area still unoccupied. "Have a seat, John." 

"You know, I've got a phone. I mean, very clever and all that, but, er ... you could just phone me. On my phone." 

 

"When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place."

"You do realise having both me and John step into a black car that isn't a taxi and driven around random streets in London before stopping here is hardly at all..." She paused for a moment, 'discreet'." 

He narrowed his eyes at the brunette for a moment, not bothering to answer her as he looked at Watson. "The leg must be hurting you. Sit down." 

 

"I don't wanna sit down." John replied.

The man with the umbrella raised a brow. "You don't seem very afraid." He hummed. "Have you been telling him lies Hadley?" He looked at her.

"Not lies." She replied. "Only facts."

"You don't seem very frightening." John replied ignoring Emily.

The man chuckled at John. "Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think? What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?" 

 

"I don't have one. I barely know him. I met him..." He trailed off only realising he had met the man yesterday and Emily today. "...yesterday."

"Mm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" 

 

John narrowed his eyes. "Who  _ are _ you?"

"An interested party." 

 

"Interested in Sherlock?" He frowned. "Why? I'm guessing you're not friends."

"You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he has?" He asked, slightly tilting his head. " I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having." 

"And what's that?"

"An enemy." 

"An enemy?" John repeated.

"In  _ his _ mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his  _ arch _ -enemy. He does love to be dramatic." 

Johns eyes scanned the warehouse as he replied in a sarcastic tone: "Well, thank God  _ you're _ above all that." 

John then dug into his jacket pocket as his phone went off. 

 

_ Baker Street.  _

_ Come at once  _

_ if convenient.  _

_ \- SH _

 

"I hope I'm not distracting you." The man muttered. 

"Not distracting me at all." He replied. 

 

John then put his phone in his pocket. "Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

"I could be wrong, but I think that's none of your business." 

 

"It  _ could _ be."

"It  _ really _ couldn't." 

Emily raised a brow as the man took a notebook from his pocket. Emily rolled her eyes. "Of course." 

_ " _ If you  _ do _ move into, um... two hundred and twenty-one  _ B _ Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He then closed the notebook and returned it to his pocket. 

 

"Why?" John frowned.

"Because you're not a wealthy man." 

 

"In exchange for what?"

"Information." Emily cut in before the man could reply. John looked over at her. "He tried it with me, four years ago when I first met him. He just wants you to tell him what Holmes is doing."

"Why?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "He worries about him."

"I do." He narrowed his eyes. "Constantly."

"That's nice of you." 

 

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a... difficult relationship."

Emily scoffed. "As if he wouldn't know." The man tilted his head at her slightly. "As soon as I saw him again on the case four years ago he knew where I had been and  _ who _ I had been talking to. He isn't as much of an idiot as you make out."

"You always did flatter him, didn't you." 

"I  _ despise _ him and you of all people know it."

"I see it as your way of flirting with him." He hummed. The two narrowed their eyes at each other as Johns phone went off again .

 

If inconvenient, come anyway. 

\- SH

"No." John then spoke aloud breaking the glares they were sending each other.

 

"But I haven't mentioned a figure." 

"Don't bother."

The man laughed slightly. "You're very loyal,  _ very _ quickly." 

 

"No, I'm not. I'm just not interested."

The man looked at him closely before he opened his notebook again. "'Trust issues'," it says here. 

 

"What's that?" John asked looking slightly nervous. 

"Could it be that you've decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?" He scoffed. 

 

"Who says I trust him?"

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily." He remarked then looked at Emily. "Yet here you are with Emily Hadley, the woman you only just met this evening." He raised a brow. John then glanced at his phone which rang again. 

 

_ Bring Hadley as well. _

_ \- SH  _

 

"Are we done?" John asked. 

"You tell me." 

 

"I think we are." Emily turned around and walked towards the car, getting into the back as she waited for John to finish his conversation with the older brother.

"I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him," he said glancing at the car for a moment, "but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen." 

 

"My what?" John frowned.

"Show me." He nodded towards the hand, John shifted on his feet before he raised his left hand.

The man stepped towards John who instantly lowered his hand. He raised his eyebrows as John warned him. "Don't." 

Reluctantly John sighed and held his hand up, facing downwards he held it out flat as the man took his hand in his own. "Remarkable."

 

"What is?" John pulled his hand away as the man turned and walked away from Watson. 

"Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield." He turned towards John. "As I said earlier, Miss Hadley probably warned you about Sherlock. What she failed to mention is how much dangerous she can also be, but you know that already, don't you?" 

"What's wrong with my hand?"

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand." John nodded his head in reply.  

"Your therapist thinks it's post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service."

"Who the hell  _ are _ you?" John then snapped. "How do you know that?" 

"Fire her." He replied. "She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady."

Johns eyes glanced downwards before he looked back up. "You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson. You miss it." He then leaned towards John to whisper: "Welcome back."

_ " _ Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson." He remarked as he walked away. 

"I'm to take you home." The woman that was not named Anthea said, making John turn around. John then got another text alert and glanced at his phone.

_ Could be dangerous.  _

_ \- SH  _

 

John placed his phone back into his pocket and held out his left hand, watching it for a moment.

"Address?"

"Baker Street." Emily answered, her window in the car open. John blinked at her while she scoffed. "Don't look at me like that, you need to go back there since you apparently live there now and I did say I needed to talk to Mrs Hudson."

John sighed and nodded, looking at 'Anthea'. "Two two one B Baker Street. But I need to stop off somewhere first."

The car drove off and out of the warehouse, into the night, stopping at a small flat in London for a couple of minutes as John exited the car and entered the flat, returning a minute or two later. The car then headed to 221b Baker Street, stopping just before the door. Emily exited the vehicle John turned to 'Anthea'. "Listen, your boss – any chance you could not tell him this is where I went?" 

"Sure." 

 

John sighed at how quickly she had replied. "You've told him already, haven't you?"

"Yeah." She slowly replied as he exited the vehicle.


	3. Busting the Ex-Junkie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while and I'm super sorry about that! I did create a post on Tumblr explaining something that deeply affected me, I was actually planning on putting a chapter out that week until the thing happened, really didn't expect to have to take this long of a hiatus from this.

The two headed upstairs. Emily rolled her eyes at Sherlock who lay stretched out on his sofa with his head resting on a cushion. The man still had his jacket on with the buttons on his sleeves undone and pushed up his arms. The man didn't even open an eye when Emily and John entered the room. Sherlock had his right hand pressing against his left arm, just under the inside of his elbow. His eyes then shot open feeling Emily’s gaze on him.

"What are you doing?" John asked as Emily curiously watched Sherlock. 

"Nicotine patch." He answered lifting his arm to show three round nicotine patches stuck to his arm. "Helps me think."

Emily rolled her eyes. He continued: "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work."

Emily shook her head, reached over and ripped the patches off his arm making the man wince slightly. "What the hell was that for?"

"Do you seriously want an addiction?" She snapped throwing the patches at his chest. "Because that's what will happen Holmes."

"No, it won't." He replied.

"It will if you keep using three patches at a time!"

"I don't understand how this concerns you." He sniffed.

"It concerns me because if you mess up this case it messes up for me too." She narrowed her eyes at him. "This isn't just about you Holmes."

"The case isn't your concern either, I can handle it."

"Look." She sighed shaking her head. "I don't know if you understand in that thick skull of yours but this case is mine just as much as it is yours. Now you called John for a reason and even asked me to come so what did you want?"

"How did you know?" John stared at her.

"I saw your texts." She shrugged.

"Oh, yeah, of course." 

Sherlock looked at John. "Can I borrow your phone?" 

"My phone?" 

"Don't wanna use mine." He replied. "Always a chance that the number will be recognised. It's on the website."

"The website no one looks at?" Emily raised a brow.

Sherlock merely narrowed his eyes at the brunette.

"Mrs Hudson's got a phone." John reminded. 

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear."

"We were at the other side of London." John gritted his teeth.

"There was no hurry."

John glanced at Emily who shrugged slightly, not bothering to argue any further. "Here." John sighed handing his phone over. 

"So what's this about – the case?" John raised a brow.

"Her case." Sherlock softly replied. 

"Her case?"

Sherlock opened her eyes. "Her suitcase, yes, obviously." He muttered. "The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." 

"Okay, he took her case. So?"

"It's no use," he shook his head, "there's no other way. We'll have to risk it."

"On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text." 

"You brought me here..." John gritted his teeth again, "to send a text."

"Text, yes." Sherlock nodded. "The number on my desk."

"And you wonder why I despise you, Holmes."

"The feeling’s mutual."  He smiled and held out John’s phone to said man. John snatched the phone while Sherlock placed his hands together and under his chin as John walked over to the window and glanced out of it.

Sherlock opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly in wonder. "What's wrong?"

"Just met a friend of yours."

Sherlock frowned in confusion. "More like an enemy." Emily cut in making them both look to her. "Your  _ arch _ -enemy." She glanced at Sherlock who nodded slightly in understanding,

"Do people  _ have _ arch-enemies?" John asked.

"Did he offer you money again?" Sherlock sighed. 

"Yes." Emily rolled her eyes. "And for your information we said no."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "We could have split the fee. Did you not learn from last time Hadley?"

"I wasn't going to live in the same flat as you even if it was a last resort." She replied. "Plus it wasn't for it, it was for John."

John glanced between the two people who were narrowing their eyes at each other. Honestly what was their problem? "Who is he?"

"The most dangerous man you've ever met," Sherlock softly replied, "and not my problem right now." He then looked at Emily a final time before glancing at John, speaking slightly louder. "On my desk, the number."

John gave Sherlock a dark look but the man was already looking away from him, staring up at the ceiling. "Jennifer Wilson." He frowned. "That was... Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes." Sherlock replied. "That's not important. Just enter the number." 

John shook his head and began to type it into his phone. "Are you doing it?"

"Yes." 

"Have you  _ done _ it?" He asked a moment later.

"Ye..." John automatically replied before stopping himself, frowning at Sherlock. "Hang on!"

"Stop acting like a child." Emily rolled her eyes at Holmes who shot the woman a look before ignoring her. "These words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out'." John began to type the words, briefly glancing at Sherlock with slight concern. "'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come'."

John stopped typing and frowned. "You blacked out?" 

"What?" Sherlock frowned. "No. No!" He then stood up and walked over the coffee table, heading towards the kitchen. "Type and send it. Quickly." He then moved one of the dining room chairs and flips it, making it face his own chair.

"Have you sent it?" 

"What's the address?" 

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!"

 "Bloody hell, Holmes!" Emily exclaimed seeing what he had under his chair. The man casually reached under and brought a bright pink suitcase out from underneath his chair, setting it on the dining chair as he unzipped it. "

"That's..." John stared at the case. "That's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case."

"Yes, obviously." Sherlock rolled his eyes at them both.

"What the hell are you doing with her case?"

"Well I didn't kill her if that thought crossed your mind." He remarked.

"I'm not stupid, Holmes." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not Anderson or Donovan, I'm actually here to help, not to try and get you stuck behind bars!" The woman exclaimed.

"Oh that's a first." He shrugged using his arms on either side of his chair, pulled his legs up and perched on it. His back being supported by the backrest of the chair.

"This isn't a game Holmes."

"No, it is a case where four people have died. I'm using this evidence to help solve this case, okay?"

"Does Lestrade know you have this?"

"Lestrade?" He chuckled. "Of course he doesn't. Lestrade would take this off me in a heartbeat."

John merely stared at the two before he slumped into his chair. "How did you get this?"

"By looking."

"Where?"

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens." He explained. "He could only keep her case by accident, if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every backstreet wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens... Took me less than an hour to find the right skip."

"Pink." John scoffed. "You got all that because you realised the case would be pink?"

"Well, it  _ had _ to be pink, obviously."

"Why didn't  _ I _ think of that?" He muttered.

"Because you're an idiot." John just stared at him. "No, no, no, don't look like that." He waved a hand. "Practically everyone is."

"Holmes." Emily warned.

"Fine." He glared at her. " _ Almost _ everyone." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Happy?"

"Very." She gave him a mocking smile.

"Now, look." Sherlock nodded at the case. "Do you see what's missing?" 

"From the case?" John frowned. "How  _ could _ I?"

"Hadley?" Sherlock looked at the brunette.

The woman moved towards the case and glanced at it, frowning. "Her phone." She glanced at him. "Where's her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body and there's no phone in the case. We know she had one – that's her number there; you just texted it." She looked at John. 

"Maybe she left it at home."

"No." Emily shook her head. "She wouldn't leave it at home."

"Exactly." Sherlock nodded. "She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She  _ never _ leaves her phone at home."

"Er... " John frowned suddenly realising what he did. "Why did I just send that text?" 

"Well, the question is: where is her phone  _ now _ ?"

"She could have lost it." John shrugged. 

"Yes, or ...?"

"The murderer..." He looked up. "You think the murderer has the phone?" 

"Maybe she left it when she left her case." Emily cut in. "Perhaps he took took it from her for some reason." She shrugged. "Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone."

"Sorry, what are we doing?" John frowned. "Did I just text a murderer?!" He exclaimed. "What good will  _ that _ do?" 

They all glanced at Johns phone, ringing on the arm of his chair. He looked across at Sherlock and Emily. "A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her." Holmes said aloud. "If somebody had just  _ found _ that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer..." He paused as the phone stopped ringing. "...would panic." He then stood up, flipping the lid of the suitcase closed, while walking across the room to pick up his jacket.

John stared down at his phone while Sherlock put his coat on. The man then looked up. "Have you talked to the police?"

Emily snorted. "Of course he hasn't."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. "Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police."

"So why are you talking to us?" John asked.

Sherlock reached behind the door, grabbing his coat. He frowned at the mantelpiece. "Mrs Hudson took my skull."

"So we're basically filling in for your skull?" John asked.

"No." He replied making them both blink. "Hadley isn't she is actually proving to be useful and you're doing fine."

John didn't move while Emily raised a brow surprised that Sherlock didn't make some kind of remark about how annoying she apparently was. "Well?" Sherlock looked towards John.

"Well what?"

"Well, you could just sit there and watch telly."

"What, you want me to come with you?" John asked.

"I like company when I go out," he shrugged, "and I think better when I talk aloud, plus I might end up killing Hadley if there is no one to stop me."

"And he's back." Emily rolled her eyes. Sherlock merely smiled in reply before walking out the door. Emily shook her head and went to follow a few moments later.

"I thought you said he was dangerous?" John frowned at her.

"Dangerous but also very intriguing." She shrugged. "Plus it helps when I just think about the lives I will be saving by stopping this killer. As much as I hate to admit it, if Holmes and I work together we can find the killer much quicker than if we were tearing at each other's throats. It just makes things messy in the end."

"Right..." Watson slowly replied as the brunette left. John quickly grabbed his cane and slowly caught up with the two when entering the street. Emily was already walking beside Sherlock as if they had left together and not one after the other.

"Where are we going?" John asked, now a few steps behind the two.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here." Sherlock replied.

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?"

"No – I think he's  _ brilliant _ enough." He answered. "I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught."

"Great, he's encouraging it now." Emily rolled her eyes.

"Oh come off it, Hadley." Holmes rolled his eyes. "They want appreciation! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius.

It needs an audience."

Sherlock spun around as he walked, gesturing to around them. "This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go." He then held his hands up to either side of his head to focus on his thought. "Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

"I don't have an idea." Emily muttered.

"That's a first." Sherlock raised a brow, making Hadley roll her eyes while John gave his reply.

"Dunno. Who?"

Sherlock lowered his hands. "Haven't the faintest. Hungry?" He glanced at Hadley and Watson.

Sherlock lead the way, walking up to a restaurant as a waiter instead gestured to a reserved table near the front window. The three entered the restaurant, Sherlock removed his coat while Emily removed her own jacket. "Thank you, Billy."

John took his jacket off next while Sherlock moved his seat to the side so he would be able to see out of the window. Emily did the same sitting opposite to Sherlock while John sat in the middle of the two.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street." Sherlock broke the silence as he nodded at the street outside. "Keep your eyes on it."

"Yes boss." Emily muttered mocking a salute.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he?" John frowned. "He'd need to be mad."

"He  _ has _ killed four people." The curly haired, man replied.

"...Okay." John slowly nodded.

The manager Emily remembered to be named Angelo walked over to the table, a smile on his face. "Sherlock." He shook the man's hand before turning to Emily. "Miss Hadley." He lightly kissed both her cheeks. "Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free." He glanced between them both. "On the house, for you both." He stared at them both a moment before letting out a content sigh. "It is lovely to see you both here again and together after your row last time."

Both Sherlock and Emily grimaced at the mans assumption. John coughed slightly seeming to have choked on his own spit. "These two?" He glanced at the two people next to him. "Together?" He laughed slightly. "They've been close to killing each other all day."

"Ah." Angelo glanced at John. "You brought your friend to help sort yourselves out then."

"Angelo..." Emily tried to cut in.

"This man got me off a murder charge." He cut in, nodding to Sherlock.

"This is Angelo." Sherlock nodded at him.

"Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

"You?" Emily scoffed. "I'm pretty sure it was me who actually got the evidence together, you just went and told Lestrade."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at Emily who rolled her eyes.

"Your eyes don't scare me Holmes."

"Shame." He hummed. "Thought they might have chased you off the case."

"Never."

Angelo slowly backed away looking at John. "I'll grab a candle for the table." He muttered before walking away.

John glanced at Sherlock and then Emily. The two still glaring at each other. "Why do you two hate each other so much?" He questioned.

"Hate isn't a strong enough word." Emily muttered tearing her eyes away from Sherlock to glance at John.

"Ditto." Sherlock added.

"Okay well why do you two look like your about to kill each other almost every second?"

"Two years." Emily gritted out staring at Sherlock again.

"I'm sorry?" John frowned.

"Two years I was working on that case and then suddenly  _ Sherlock Holmes  _ turns up and solves it within a couple of days." She then looked towards John. "He made me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone and he didn't even want to take recognition for what he did. He gave it all to Lesteade, then to top it all off his brother started to follow me around whenever he was on the same case I was."

"It wasn't my fault Mycroft did that." Sherlock protested. "I can't control him you know. He isn't some kind of pet." Sherlock sighed and rubbed his forehead, looking at John as he changed the topic while Angelo returned to the table. He had a small glass bowl containing a lit tea-light in his hand. "You may as well eat. We might have a long wait." He placed down the bowl before he disappeared.

"Can't you two drop the past?" John spoke up looking at Emily and Sherlock who were both staring out the window, watching the street from across from them. "At least drop it to the point where you don't argue like you're about to murder each other?"

Neither of them replied, only glancing at each other.

____

A short while later John had a plate of food while Emily and Sherlock continued to look out the window. "People don't  _ have _ arch-enemies." John said, looking at the curly haired man.

"I'm sorry?" Holmes frowned.

"In real life." He added. "There  _ are _ no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

"Doesn't it?" Sherlock replied sounding not very interested as he looked back out the window. "Sounds a bit dull." 

"So who did we meet?"

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" 

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like ...Girlfriends," John slowly added, "boyfriends ..."

"Yes, well, as I was saying – dull." 

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend?" He frowned not listening that much. "No, not really my area." 

"Mm." John slowly nodded before noticing what he had missed out. "Oh, right." D'you have a boyfriend?"

Sherlock sharply t urned towards the man _. " _ Which is fine, by the way." 

"I  _ know _ it's fine."

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" 

"No." He replied.

John smiled slightly, the look on his face becoming more forceful by the second. "Right. Okay. You're unattached. Like me." He glanced at his plate. Emily turned around to them holding in a laugh. "Fine." He slowly nodded. "Good." He then continued to eat. 

Sherlock looked at him a little suspiciously, he then glanced out of the window before his eyes widened. "John, um..." He muttered. "I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work," he then began to speed up, "and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any..." Emily then burst out laughing making them both look at her.

"He didn't mean it like that." She giggled shaking her head. "Idiot."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her while she raised her hands, having remembered what John said earlier. "Hey I didn't mean it like that. I was joking, okay?"

"Fine." Sherlock muttered glancing across the street again. He frowned noticing a taxi, no one got in and no one got out. "Look across the street." He said making them both look. "Stopped." He muttered as Emily brought out her mobile, pretending to look at it while watching the taxi out of the corner of her eye. "Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out."

"Why a taxi?" He muttered before blinking. "Oh, that's clever.  _ Is _ it clever?  _ Why _ is it clever?" 

"That's him?" John asked.

"Don't stare." Sherlock ordered. "Hadley knows how to do it." He nodded at the woman. 

John turned to Sherlock and frowned. "You're staring." He looked at Emily. "Both of you are."

"I'm doing it discreetly." She hummed. "Plus all three of us can't benightedly stare.

Sherlock then rose to his feet, grabbing his coat and shrugging it on, Emily did the same, following him out while John grabbed his own jacket. Sherlock kept his eyes locked on the taxi which suddenly drove off. Sherlock then ran towards it. "Holmes!" Emily shouted quickly noticing the bright lights of the car coming from their right. She pulled the man back by his jacket. Making him glare at her.

"What was that for!" He exclaimed.

"You almost got ran over!" She shouted in return.

Sherlock scoffed and turned around, seeing the taxi drive off.

John sighed _.  _ "I've got the cab number." 

"Good for you." Sherlock dryly replied quickly bringing up his hands to either side of his head as he concentrated, remembering the streets of London. "Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights." He rolled off his tongue. He lifted up his head and noticed a man unlocking a door. Sprinting towards it Emily sighed and followed a second later. John close behind.

"Oi!" The man exclaimed as they both passed. 

"Sorry." John apologised as he too ran past.

The three headed up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral, fire escape. Sherlock missing one or two steps at a time while Emily ran up them all, seeming to be much faster where she was lacking the height Sherlock had to miss the steps.

"Come on, John." Sherlock called back reaching the top of the stairs, they ran to the edge and spotted a shorter metal spiral staircase that lead down the side of the building to another door on a floor lower than the one they were on. Sherlock ran down the stairs and climbed onto the railing before he leaped across. Emily did the same a second later, John a few after her. 

Sherlock ran across the roof of the building and leaped across to the next. Emily winced slightly and did the same, Sherlock grabbing her as she lost her balance almost falling backwards. "Thanks." The brunette nodded while John skidded to a stop seeing what they had done.

" Come  _ on _ , John." Sherlock called the two taking off again as John glanced down. "We're losing him!"

J ohn backed up a few paces before running and jumping across, catching up to Holmes and Hadley who were running down another metal staircase before running on a ledge and dropping down into an alleyway. The three ran out of the alleyway just as the taxi was turning the corner, the three only just missed it. Sherlock angrily cried out. "Ah, no!"

Emily shook her head as she continued running, determination to catch up to the car after Holmes blamed her for saving his life. "This way!" She shouted turning in the opposite direction. Sherlock followed frowning before understanding what she was doing as John followed behind. They ran down another alley and some more side streets, Sherlock ran out in front of the car as it came to a screeching stop. Emily groaned at his carelessness again while he dug into his pocket and brought out a DI badge, running to the right hand side of the cab he opened the door.

The passenger stared at him as Emily caught her breath before sighing and closing her eyes. "L.A." She panted. "Santa Monica. Just arrived, this evening."

"How can you  _ possibly _ know that?" John asked.

"The luggage." Sherlock answered for Emily.

"It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" Sherlock said to the passenger. "Sorry – are you guys the police?"

"Yeah." He flashed the I.D. at the man for a moment. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

Sherlock glanced at Emily unsure what else to say next. "Welcome to London." She added before turning away, Sherlock following her.

"Er, any problems, just let us know." John quickly added before shutting the door and walking towards Emily and Sherlock. "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down."

"Basically." Sherlock and Emily both replied, briefly narrowing their eyes at the other.

"Not the murderer," John added.

" _ Not _ the murderer, no."

"Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." Sherlock added.

"Hey, where-where did you get this?" John asked reaching for the I.D." Emily shook her head while Sherlock handed it to him.

"Here."

"Right." He frowned, "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat."

"When he is annoying?" Emily raised a brow. "Isn't that every day with you?" Sherlock glared at her while she chuckled slightly shaking her head. "I have to say it is funny when you're not the one who’s getting interrogated about having a 'missing I.D."

John slowly nodded and returned the I.D.

"What?" Sherlock frowned noticing the way he was staring.

"Nothing, just: 'Welcome to London'."

The three stared at each other before they all started to laugh. They then looked down the road as a police officer who seemed to be investigating why a taxi stopped in the middle of the road spotted them. Pointing at the three. Sherlock glanced at Emily then John

" You two g ot your breath back?"

"Ready when you are." John replied.

"Hadley?"

"Don't have to tell me twice." She added as they took off down the road.

____

The three arrived back at 221B breathing heavily as Sherlock hung his coat on the banister. Emily wrapped her own jacket around her waist.

"Okay, that was ridiculous." John panted. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." He admitted, leaning against the hall wall.

"And you invaded Afghanistan." Emily muttered catching her own breath.

Both John and Sherlock giggled at that making the brunette laugh too. "That wasn't just me." Sherlock shook his head while John frowned. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?"

"Oh, they can keep an eye out." He waved a hand. "It was a long shot anyway."

"So what were we doing there?" John asked.

"Oh, just passing the time." He shrugged looking at John. "And proving a point."

"What point?"

"You." He called towards Mrs Hudson’s ground floor, flat. "Mrs Hudson! Doctor Watson  _ will _ take the room upstairs."

"Says who?" He questioned.

"I think the man at the door says so." Emily smirked glancing at it a moment before there was a knock on it.

"Nice." Sherlock quietly whispered while John stared at Emily for a moment before he moved towards the door and opened it, finding Angelo on the other side.

"Sherlock texted me." He explained holding up Johns can. 

"He said you forgot this."

John stared at the cane slightly surprised before taking it. "Ah."

He looked at Sherlock then turned back. "Er, thank you. Thank you." He then shut the door as Angelo turned away.

"Sherlock, what have you done?" Mrs Hudson walked into the hallway, Emily instantly frowned. This wasn't the Mrs Hudson she knew. She glanced at Sherlock with narrowed eyes.

"Mrs Hudson?" The man replied, ignoring the brunettes glare.

"Upstairs."

Sherlock hurried up the stairs, John following. Emily stopped for a moment and smiled at Mrs Hudson who returned it with her own sad smile. "Can we talk later."

"Of course, dear." The woman replied. Emily then headed upstairs hearing Lestrade who was sat in Sherlocks arm chair, multiple other people in the flat, moving the two men's possessions around.

"You can't just break into my flat." Sherlock protested as Emily joined them in the living room.

"And you can't withhold evidence." Lestrade replied before noticing Emily and looking past Holmes to address her. "I thought you would  _ help  _ him Emily. Not let him make you like him."

The woman narrowed her eyes at both Lestrade and Sherlock. The DI turned to the man not feeling that threatened by Hadley’s look. "And I didn't  _ break _ into your flat."

"Well, what do you call this then?" He huffed.

Lestrade looked at his men before his eyes moved back to Sherlock. "It's a drugs bust."

"Really, Holmes?" Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. "Really?"

"Seriously?!" John exclaimed. " _ This _ guy, a junkie?!" He laughed. "Have you met him?!"

"John..." both Emily and Sherlock warned, the curly haired man nervously bit his own lip while Emily winced as John continued. "I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

"John, you might just want to shut up  _ now _ ." Emily whispered seeing that even Sherlock was getting a little too uncomfortable.

"Yeah, but come on..." he rolled his eyes before noticing the,  _ very  _ real and sympathetic look on Hadleys face as she glanced at Sherlock. She wasn't joking or trying to kill him with her death stares. The woman actually looked a little sorry for him.

"No." John shook his head.

"What?" Sherlock snapped.

" _ You _ ?"

"John." Emily warned.

Sherlock glared at John. "Shut up!" He turned to Lestrade. "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No,  Anderson 's my sniffer dog." He nodded towards the kitchen while Emily pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Bloody hell."

"What, An..." Sherlock stared while Emily closed the doors to the kitchen as several more officers searched through the room.

Anderson raised a hand, giving a sarcastic greeting. "Anderson, what are  _ you _ doing here on a drugs bust?" Sherlock snapped.

"Oh, I volunteered." He replied.

"They  _ all _ did. They're not strictly speaking  _ on _ the drugs squad, but they're very keen." Donovan then walked into view holding a small glass jar. "Are these  _ human _ eyes?" She asked looking into the jar with white orbs in it.

"Put those back!" Sherlock shouted.

"They were in the microwave!"

"It's an experiment."

"Keep looking, guys." Lestrade ordered as he stood and turned towards Sherlock. "Or you could help us properly and I'll stand them down."

"This is childish." Sherlock shook his head and began to pace around the room.

"Well, I'm  _ dealing _ with a child." He protested. "Sherlock, this is  _ our _ case. I'm letting you in, but you do  _ not _ go off on your own. Clear?"

Sherlock stopped and stared at him. "Oh, what, so-so-so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?"

"It stops being pretend if they find anything."

"I am clean!" He exclaimed.

"Is your flat? All of it?"

"Oh you're both acting like children!" Emily exclaimed making them all stare at her. She huffed glaring at Lestrade and Sherlock. "Can't we just all work together, people have died and more people  _ will  _ die if we don't work this out."

Lestrade sighed for a moment. "We've found Rachel."

Sherlock's eyes brightened. "Who is she?"

"Jennifer Wilson's only daughter."

Sherlock frowned. "Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter's name? Why?"

"Never mind  _ that _ ." Anderson cut in. "We found the case." He pointed to the case in the living room. "According to  _ someone _ , the murderer has the case, it can't be Emily's because why would she leave her stuff with you." Anderson mocked a glare. "Oh and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath."

"I'm not a psychopath, Anderson." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." He turned to Lestrade. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her.  _ I _ need to question her." Emily lightly coughed making Sherlock sigh. "Hadley needs to question her."

"She's dead." He replied.

"Excellent!" Sherlock grinned, John look startled while Emily snapped at him.

"Holmes!"

"How, when and why?" The curly haired man asked, ignoring the brunette next to him. "Is there a connection? There  _ has _ to be."

"Well, I doubt it, since she's been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson's stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago."

"No, that's..." Sherlock frowned, "that's not right. How... Why would she do that?  _ Why?" _

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?" Anderson sarcastically replied. "Yup – sociopath; I'm seeing it now."

Emily glared at the man. "Anderson, think about it for a second." She cut in. "Jennifer didn't just think about her daughter, she scratched her name into the wooden floorboards as she died that would have taken a long time and it would have been very painful especially since it was done with her fingernails."

Sherlock frowned beginning to pace back and forth.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves," John pointed at both Emily and Sherlock, "that he  _ makes _ them take it. Well, maybe he... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow."

Sherlock stopped turning to him, "Yeah, but that was  _ ages _ ago. Why would she still be upset?"

John just stared at him then noticed that everyone searching had stopped and stared at him. Sherlock turned to Emily looking slightly awkwardly. "You're a Detective Hadley, not good?"

_ "Bit _ not good, yeah." She whispered.

"Yeah, but if you were dying..." Sherlock said stepping closer, "if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

"Umm..." she frowned. "I don't know, I would try and help whoever was on my case." She shrugged. "I guess. But she couldn't do that, could she?"

Sherlock stared at her. "She  _ was _ clever." He muttered beginning to pace again. "She's trying to  _ tell _ us something, just as you said."

"Isn't the doorbell working?" Mrs Hudson asked. "Your taxi is here, Sherlock, Emily."

"What?" Emily frowned.

"I didn't order a taxi." Sherlock waved her off. "Go away."

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?"

"Its best if you don't get involved." Emily replied as John opened his mouth to answer. "Nothing bad Mrs Hudson."

"Alright then, but come grab me if you need anything dear."

"Will do." She nodded as the woman returned downstairs.

"Shut up, everybody, shut up!" Sherlock suddenly shouted. "Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My  _ face _ is?!" He blinked.

Emily snorted before stopping when Sherlock shot her a serious look.

"Everybody quiet and still." Lestrade ordered his colleagues. "Anderson, turn your back."

"Oh, for God's sake!" Anderson huffed.

"Anderson!" Emily shouted making him turn around. "Thank you." She nodded then turned to Sherlock. "Holmes?"

"Come on, think." He muttered. "Quick!"

"What about your taxi?"

"MRS HUDSON!" He loudly shouted making the woman jump.

"Sherlock!" Emily exclaimed eyes narrowed at him in a glare. "Stop it, now."

Sherlock shot her a glare back before he stopped and stared at nothing in particular. "Oh." He then smiled. "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!"

"She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead." He laughed. "Do you see, do you get it?"

Emily's eyes widened. "How did I not bloody see it." She muttered shaking her head.

"See what?" Lestrade asked.

"She didn't  _ lose _ her phone," the brunette answered, "she never lost it. She  _ planted _ it on him."

"When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death." Sherlock cut in. "She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

"But how?" Lestrade asked.

"Phones these days are quite advanced." Emily explained. "You can use google on them, talk to friends halfway across the world on them. But Jennifer didn't think about any of that before her death she thought about Rachel."

"I thought you two already explained this to us?" John frowned.

Sherlock groaned. "Don't you see?  _ Rachel! _ "

The rest of the room just looked blankly at the two. "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me?"

"Ego."

"Shut up." Sherlock automatically replied before looking back at the blank faces in the room. "It must be  _ so _ relaxing. Rachel is not a name."

"Then what is it?" John asked, a stern tone in his voice.

"Now this is slightly more exciting." Emily grinned slightly making them all blink at her. "What?" She shrugged. "I've been away for at least a year, give me a break."

"John, on the luggage, there's a label." Sherlock cut in. "E-mail address."

John moved to the case and looked at the label. "Er, jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk." He read aloud.

Sherlock sat down at the dining table and typed away at the computer. "Oh, I've been too slow." He muttered. "I'm blaming you Hadley."

"Oh thanks." She dryly replied with an eye roll.

"She didn't have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it's a smartphone, it's email enabled."

"So there was a website for her account. The username is her email address..."

"...and all together now, the password is?"

"Rachel."

"So we can read her emails. So what?" Anderson cut in.

"Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street."

Emily snorted. "Nice one, but yes we can read the emails, not only that, Jennifer had a smartphone. She was a busy woman seeing multiple men at once so of course her phone was important to her. If she even lost it who knows what might come out about her? A business woman with multiple lovers  _ all  _ at once, scandalous."

"Hadley just cut to the chase." Anderson snapped.

The woman rolled her eyes. "The phones got GPS, Anderson and that means if you lose it you can locate it online." She glanced over Sherlocks shoulder and grinned as the computer searched for the phone. "Look at that she's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it." Lestrade cut in.

"We know he didn't." John answered.

"Come on, come on." Holmes groaned. "Quickly!"

"Sherlock, Emily. This taxi driver..."

Sherlock rose to his feet and walked over to Mrs Hudson. "Mrs Hudson, isn't it time for your evening soother?"

John sat down in the chair which Sherlock had left and watched the clock on the website spin.

"We need to get vehicles," Sherlock turned to Lestrade, "get a helicopter."

"We're gonna have to move fast." Emily told them both. This phone battery won't last forever."

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name."

"It's better than nothing." Emily shrugged walking over to John just as the computer zoomed in on the map as it found the phones location.

"Sherlock." John muttered.

"It narrows it down from just anyone in London." He told Lestrade. "It's the first proper lead that we've had."

"Holmes you're going to want to see this." Emily called over her shoulder.

Sherlock frowned walking across the room. "What is it? Quickly, where?"

"It's here." Emily frowned looking up at him. "It's in two two one Baker Street."

Sherlock straightened and frowned. "How can it be here?  _ How _ ?"

"Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere."

"No." Emily shook her head. "Jennifer wasn't the kind of woman to just leave her phone in her case."

"What, and I didn't notice it?" Sherlock cut in, ignoring the brunette. " _ Me _ ?  _ I _ didn't notice?"

"Anyway, we texted him and he called back." John told the DI

"Guys, we're also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim ..." Lestrade told his colleagues.

Emily frowned at Sherlock who looked like he was in another room. 'Holmes?" She whispered, following his gaze. Her mouth opened slightly spotting a man in a dark cardigan, a cap on his head. She couldn't see his face but clearly spotted the badge on the cord that went around his neck. ' _ London Cab Driver. _ '

The man brought something out of his pocket. A moment later both Sherlock and Emily glanced down at their phones before looking at each other.

 

_ Come with me. _

 

John looked at both Emily and John who didn't look like either of them were there. "Sherlock, Emily you two okay?" 

"What?" Sherlock frowned before waving him off. "Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine."

"Emily?"

"I'm good." She slowly nodded, her eyes locked on the door as the taxi driver walked back down the stairs. "I think I need some air, can't think in here, too many people." 

John frowned before turning to Sherlock as Emily walked away. "So, how can the phone be here?" 

"Dunno."

"I'll try it again."

"Good idea." Sherlock nodded. "I think I'm gonna go with Hadley, like she said, too many people here, won't be long."

"You sure you're alright?" John asked. 

"I'm fine." He replied, hurrying down the stairs, catching up with Emily who was waiting at the bottom.


End file.
